Sheaves of Wheat
by LosingInTranslation
Summary: Coming to terms with a death, they seek solace in each other. GSR, CD Character Death. From the Geek Fiction Elemental Ficathon


**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own anything associated with the show… I just like playing with the characters in it from time to time. Dance Monkeys! Dance!  
**RATING: **Teen/PG  
**SPOILERS: **Through US Aired Episodes

**WARNING:** CD – Character Death  
**PAIRINGS: **GSR  
**WORD COUNT: **2208  
**PROMPT: **Earth: Wheat  
**SUMMARY: **Coming to terms with a death, they seek solace in each other.

**A/N: **This is my second prompt in this ficathon. I wrote the first one within hours of receiving the prompt and felt the need for a real challenge, so I asked for another. I did some research and had two pretty strong ideas, but in the end, I decided someone needed to die to make me happy. Must be that evil streak of mine coming through again. And thanks to the dastardly works of Darth Real-Life, this one is largely un-beta'd. I did have a couple people read through it, so I have to have faith that I managed to get all the typos out. :D

**REVIEWS: **Reviews are the way I know if people are enjoying the work or not. So, if you leave one, THANKS! And if not, I hope you found at least a little something to brighten your day, and thanks for taking the time to read.

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Sitting on the sofa, dressed for the occasion, they waited together in silence. They were merely two people overcome with grief at the passing of someone precious in their lives. His dark suit, dull in the dim light of the living room, was in opposition to the delicate patterns barely visible on her navy blue dress. She had wondered if it was more appropriate to wear black, but he reasoned to her that the dark blue color was more than sufficient for someone like her.

He tried to assuage her concerns by telling her that they needed to celebrate the passing of someone so dear to them; he was certain no one would think any less of her for the rich blue dress. When he took her hand in comfort and squeezed, she merely nodded and tried not to let him see her tears. They were both feeling so much pain, but in each other they seemed to find solace.

Once more, he looked at his watch, almost as though he was willing the time to advance. Or perhaps, he simply wanted it to turn back, so that he might regain that which he had lost; that which they all had lost. She asked again, if it was almost time to go, and his only answer was to take her hand and bow his head. They still had plenty of time to wait.

Their twin presence of grief left a vacuum of light in the room. They were a black hole, swirling and taking shape as all the light was sucked into the vortex of their combined pain. Mourning permeated the room and became palpable with barely a glance into their sorrowful faces.

A stuttered sigh escaped her slender throat, and she found herself leaning into his arm for some kind of human connection. The grief was so consuming to him that he failed to notice her until she hung onto his forearm and rested her head against his shoulder. When she sniffled, he reached into his pocket and then gave her the handkerchief he withdrew.

She took it from his hand and softly whispered a thank you before shyly wiping the tears from her face. It was in grief that they seemed to have bridged the gap between them, making every gesture familiar and welcome.

Silence continued to be their common bond, quietly sitting in contemplation of the task ahead of them; the funeral. Their gaze was fixed in front of them, staring off into nothing. Though they drew comfort from their proximity to each other, they seemed unable to speak to one another beyond simple acknowledgements.

The thousand yard stare broke for her first, and she glanced down at the coffee table in the hopes of finding something real to focus on. Her eyes fell onto the unusual flower arrangement he placed there before changing for the funeral.

There were peach colored roses and bright yellow daffodils, accented with greenery, and it was all tied around a very thick sheaf of wheat. She had never seen anything like it before. Even though it was quite beautiful, she was confused by the meaning.

Reaching out, she brushed her fingers along one of the rosebuds. His attention was still unfocused, so she had to turn and speak before she got him to acknowledge her again. "I don't understand."

He finally broke his gaze and looked down at the coffee table in front of them. "What?"

"The flowers… I don't understand." Her fingers played with the rows of grain at the top of the arrangement.

He sighed, feeling the comfort from the words of another enter his mind with her question. "'I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.'" Smiling at his recollection of the quote, he turned to find her confused expression waiting for him. "John, twelve; twenty-four. Sheaves of wheat have long been a revered symbol in Christianity. The Russian Orthodox Church requires the use of the grains in funeral rites, as it signifies the bounty and beauty of life on earth."

Picking up the arrangement, he turned it over to stand upright and continued, "Within Irish Heraldry, a sheaf of wheat was meant to show plentifulness and the achievement of hope, as well as the natural fertility of the fields in a given area. And of course it is often used to represent Saint Kieran in a show of respect for his act of blessing the corn crop."

Laying the sheaf into her hands, he went on, "Along with being a common memorial in agricultural communities, it is also used by many to symbolize the fruitful and productive life of a person of faith." Releasing a deep breath of air, he explained, "And when I was trying to decide what to bring today, I couldn't think of another thing that would signify his life better than this."

She nodded her head, though he could tell she was still confused. He scooted forward and turned to face her, "He was a good man, his life was full, and its impact felt by many. He deserves to be remembered for the good in his life."

"Yeah, he does." She tried to find a smile to show him that she understood, but the corners of her lips only trembled slightly before she looked down into her lap. That was when he realized just how much they both had lost.

Without warning, she asked the questions he had been dreading, "Why now? Why when we've just found each other did he have to go?"

Choking back the pain he felt with her words, he fought to give her some measure of comfort. "I can't answer that for you. I do know that these last months have been the happiest that I've seen him." He cautiously placed a hand over one of hers and reaffirmed that information for her. "Having you home, with him, meant more to him than anything else in the world."

"I guess so." She gave the sheaf back to him and leaned back into the couch with a sigh. "I just wish we'd gotten more time."

Before he could voice a response to her sorrowful statement, another figure joined them in the living room. A gentle hand reached out and was laid over her shoulder. "Just by being with him, he felt like things were right. Finding you after all this time, that was right to him."

That time her smile managed to come out a little more, and she looked up at the woman beside her to say, "Thanks, Sara… I guess it's just hurts too much right now." She turned her eyes back to the arrangement of flowers and barely whispered, "Finding him, and then losing him, and I still don't know where I stand… It's tough."

With her gaze fixed on the flowers, she missed the careful acknowledgement between the people at either side of her. But when the woman knelt down to take her hand, the man on the couch did the same and she looked from one to the other in confusion.

"We've talked about it, and if you'd like… You can stay with us, Dakota." Looking from the woman's soft brown eyes, to the man's deep set blue ones, she struggled to understand what they were implying, because she did not want to hold out too much hope. "We have the room, and I'd like to think Jim would approve."

She looked away from Sara's kind and gentle face to find some hint in Grissom's lined and stoic expression. He only closed his eyes and nodded his head. Between them passed a silent acceptance, but with the woman she felt a need to reach out. Her arms quickly wrapped around Sara's neck, and she accepted their offer.

_**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**_

It had been a long and difficult day for him. Saying goodbye to the only true friend he had ever known had taken its toll on his spirit. After changing out of his suit, he went in search of comfort, and he found it.

Passing by the spare bedroom he was stopped by what his eyes beheld. Sara was picking up a pair of dress shoes from the floor, a small navy blue dress thrown over her arm. When she stood up from her crouch, Sara leaned over and brushed the sleeping girl's hair from her face and then reached to turn down the bedside lamp. As she turned to walk out of the room, she saw him standing there watching her. She only held a finger to her lips and gestured for him to stay silent.

After quietly pulling the door closed, she gently fell into his waiting embrace. He held her there for a moment, gently rocking them both in place. It was a comfort to them both, and Grissom never failed to find solace with Sara's arms wrapped around him.

When he began to notice a dampness on his shirt, he looked down to find tears filling Sara's eyes. "What is it?"

She tried to shake it off, but when he refused to look away, she finally relented. "I'm just worried. What if Social Services thinks we're too old? Are we really equipped to help her? I just hope we're doing the right thing. She's already been through so much."

Grissom pulled her in tighter to his body and laid his cheek against her head. "She's an eleven year old girl, with a lifetime of experiences she shouldn't have ever had, so I think Social Services will be glad to have some place to park her for the next seven years." Sara sighed with his statement. "And as far as being equipped to help her… I can't think of anyone more suited to helping a smart, tough-minded girl in crisis than you. If by no other means than by example, you will excel in helping her through anything that may come her way."

She squeezed him a little tighter and nodded into his chest. "Thank you…for everything."

Letting go, he kept an arm around her back, gestured at the door with the sleeping girl, and moved them toward the living room. "I haven't done anything, Sara."

"Talking to her today… You really helped her, you know?" Sara continued to lean into them as they walked through the apartment.

"I was just trying to make sense of it all myself. She's right…it just doesn't seem fair that Jim went through all of that to find her, and bring her home, only to be taken away like that. He's dodged the bullet so many times, to end up in the wrong place at the wrong time like that just feels tragic." When they reached the couch, they both collapsed into it. As he tried to sort through the turmoil in his mind, Sara set down the girl's things and then tucked herself in under his arm.

"Can you imagine? In the span of six months, he loses a daughter, finds out he has a granddaughter that's been in foster care for years, fights to get her out of the system, brings her home, finally starts to have some real happiness in his life again, and then some punk kid with nothing better to do than spray a store with gunfire takes it all away." Grissom shook his head with the pain of it all. "Life can be so unfair, Sara. Is that what I tell this girl? 'Sorry, kid. Life just sucks sometimes. Get used to it.' How am I supposed to explain this to her, when I can't understand it myself?"

Laying a soft hand over his heart, Sara exhaled into his shirt and he could feel her body molding into his. "I don't think you have to tell her that… I'm pretty sure she already knows it, Gil. She hasn't said too much to me yet, but Jim let me know that she had told him some really heartbreaking stories. So, I think we just need to follow his lead."

He covered her hand with his atop his chest and asked, "And what lead would that be?"

"We just have to be there for her, and when she's ready, she'll open up. And if it starts to get bad, then we can push a little." He felt Sara turn her gaze up and he looked down to meet it. "I think we both owe Jim that much."

Smiling for the first time in days, he knew that her words were the truth. With the lifting of a small portion of the grief weighing down his heart, he kissed Sara's forehead and smiled again. "You seem to have this all figured out, already. How'd you get so smart?"

As her mouth turned up at the corners, it revealed her endearing and contagious smile. "Experience has taught me well." She ended her cryptic statement with a wink, and then returned to cuddling up into his embrace.

"And just what experience might that be?"

Sara squeezed him a little tighter before she said, "Simple really… It's the same tactic I had to use with you."


End file.
